


beautiful sinner

by Elendraug



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Celestial being's first time, Dean Winchester is one hundred percent absent from this fic, M/M, Oral Sex, Prostate Massage, Rimming, SURPRISE! It's not hatesex, Sex Toys, actual use of lubricant, no seriously he's not in it and Castiel is not whining about him either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you're a cheat and a liar, but tonight you're everything I desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	beautiful sinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ponderosa121 (Ponderosa)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/gifts).



> totally wrote this to [nicki minaj](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i73lp-1Wv5c) and I am not ashamed whatsoever, rock the fuck out ♥
> 
> dedicated to [ponderosa](http://destiny.ponderosa121.com/category/fandom/supernatural/), whose crowstiel porn is truly A+ (and whose fanwork has been an inspiration to me for like ten years), and to all my fellow crowstiel fans who keep on tumblin'. HERE'S TO SEASON 9.
> 
> special thanks to [artmcnobody](http://artmcnobody.tumblr.com), [cautiousamber](http://cautiousamber.tumblr.com/), and [RiverSong1112](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverSong1112) for the beta, you guys are awesome

With a burst of wind and wings, Castiel arrives in Crowley's interrogation room. Fortunately, they're alone; an acrid stench hangs in the air, but all prisoners and lesser demons have cleared out. Crowley nods in acknowledgement of his sudden presence.

"Here for a quickie?"

"You know I'm not."

Crowley sneers at him. "You're no fun." There's a clatter of steel as he rearranges instruments on a tray, distracting himself. "Don't knock it until you've tried it. If you're not careful you'll be mistaken for something of a prude."

When his barbs evoke no reaction, Crowley saunters over and scrutinizes his partner. "Forgive me, I forgot. You've 'never had occasion'."

"My priorities lie elsewhere."

"Oh. Of _course_ they do." Crowley takes hold of Castiel's backward tie and treads tremendously close. Castiel allows him into his personal space, whether intentionally or by ignorance, Crowley isn't sure. "You know what they say about all work and no play. It's tough to make time for T &A, in'nit?" He angles his chin upward and speaks, his breath hot upon Castiel's lips. "Check your schedule. You should pencil that in."

"What is it you want, Crowley?"

"It gets me so bothered when you say my name like that." He lets his knuckles skid on the buttons of Castiel's shirt, running his hand down to his stomach until his fist slips away from the tip of the tie. "You know damn well what I want."

Despite his façade of indifference, Castiel's erection is outlined by the fitted hang of his trousers. Sidestepping him, Crowley meets his gaze and sends him a pointed look.

"You're pitching a tent, angel."

Cas looks down, and instead of the mortification a human might show, his expression remains blank. 

"It's of no consequence."

"On the contrary," Crowley says, wryly. "There might well be consequences."

His eyes narrow. "What could you possibly punish me for?"

Crowley waves him off. "Nobody said anything about punishment, unless that's what you're into. Given what heaven's up to these days, I wouldn't be surprised." With a movement as smooth as silk sheets slipping off a bed, Crowley relocates to stand behind Castiel and settles a hand on his shoulder. "After all this time, you're still not getting enough out of your meatsuit."

Immobile— _steadfast sin soldier_ —Castiel stares at a fixed spot on the far wall of the workshop before gruffly responding. "Novak agreed to be my host on behalf of God's work."

There's a beat before Crowley continues to trail his fingertips along Castiel's borrowed body, down the coat sleeve and across his chest, snaking to feel up the front pocket of his suit pants.

"Our friend Jimmy consented to you using him, no holds barred." Crowley pushes the heel of his palm into Castiel's crotch, feeling out his length between his thumb and index finger. "You ought to take him for a spin."

When Castiel persists in silence, Crowley smirks wickedly (albeit to himself) and sneaks his hand in past Castiel's belt. The fabric's confining his range of motion, but there's nothing so satisfying as hearing the angel sigh so, so slightly at the intimate intrusion. 

"I can show you the world," Crowley lilts, and Castiel glances back over his shoulder with half-lidded eyes.

"I've seen it."

"You're so jaded." A few quick, loose strokes. "But I can make you come." He brushes the pad of his thumb over the soft skin of the glans and can't stop from grinning when Castiel shivers.

Although it takes some neck-craning on Castiel's part, they manage to get in a few fleeting, awkward kisses before Crowley's had enough of making out sloppily in this musty, blood-spattered warehouse.

"Now don't make a fuss." Crowley lifts his free hand to snap his fingers, and they're in a hotel suite in Manhattan he's grown fond of. The publicist knew of it, previously, and it's been a fantastic place for some favorable trysts.

Castiel stays locked to the spot at which he appeared. Surrounded by luxury he's never known, he's a grounding force, a boulder unperturbed by swift water rushing past. And like a landscape, over time his will has been eroded, his resolve worn down by a constant current of suggestion that's never been as insincere as he initially presumed it to be.

Crowley regards him coolly before scanning the room. He lifts a hand to draw symbols on the walls with a fingertip from afar. No demon would dare interrupt the King of Hell when he's so occupied, but one can never trust the agents of Heaven to be so respectful of privacy.

Even in life, he was never a patient man, but centuries in Hell have taught him that although good things may not come to those who wait, some truly _excellent_ results can be arranged if you get your timing down just right. He traces another sigil onto the ceiling and deliberately ignores the stalwart, stubborn stance of his newfound business partner.

He's entertained the notion of shagging Castiel since he first noticed him: a kindred spirit with a relentless rebellious streak. Castiel is headstrong, arrogant, self-assured. They're well matched. His vessel's nothing to sneeze at, either, and Crowley's never denied being a hedonist.

"I want this," Castiel announces, without provocation.

"Good. Then sit down."

And bless him, he obeys, sitting down heavily on the king-size memory foam: as if Crowley would settle for anything less. He himself settles between Castiel's legs, easily dismissing the mortal discomfort of aging knees on hardwood flooring. 

Castiel watches, rapt, as Crowley unzips his pants and reaches in to free his cock. There's zero hesitation when the demon leans forward to swallow him down; Castiel reflexively grabs for Crowley's head to urge him on.

A muffled laugh reaches his ears, and all he can do is take it all in as Crowley does the same. Castiel moans low in his throat, which earns him enthusiastic licking at the base of his dick. Crowley pulls back with a very gratifying, very wet noise and tilts his head, echoing the angel's typical response.

"It would seem," he says, huskily, "that I've led you into temptation."

"Yes." Castiel lifts his hips to thrust his length towards Crowley's lips. 

Crowley absently cups his balls, as if he's lost interest. "I get the distinct impression that there's something in particular you want, sweetheart."

When he next looks up, Crowley sees in Castiel's face the desperation of a creature who's never known pleasure beyond a stick-and-carrot merit system, with grace meted out by an absent deity. He's never enjoyed himself for the sake of it.

"I want..." Castiel fishes for the words. "I want whatever you'll give me."

"Such manners," Crowley says, wagging his eyebrows. "Lucky for you, I'm inclined to oblige. Nothing shameful about liking a cock in your mouth." Abruptly, he stands up and points almost lazily to Castiel's trousers. "Get those off, will you?" 

While Castiel's busy with his clothing (that for whatever fool reason he won't simply magic away), Crowley peruses the neatly-organized nightstand drawer for a few choice toys. He sits down on the bed and slides a quietly buzzing cockring onto Castiel's flagging erection before stroking him back to full hardness.

It's at this point that Cas finally, _finally_ closes his eyes, and when Crowley pushes him back onto the bed, he doesn't resist. At the demon's insistence, Castiel spreads his thighs wide. Without wasting a moment, Crowley ducks his head to eat him out.

Cas lets his head fall back, his throat arched and exposed. His breathing is shallow, and he's periodically licking his lips, unsure how to process the carnal sensation.

"There's the thing I love about you angels," Crowley mutters, more to himself than to his partner. "You're so damned obsessive about purity."

"It _is_ next to godliness," Castiel replies, flatly, and Crowley snickers with genuine amusement before dragging another long, wet lick against his entrance.

"Maybe if you let Jimmy take a shit once in a while you wouldn't look so constipated." Crowley is about to continue the taunting when he sees Castiel start to jack himself off, the vibrations of the cockring dampened by the presence of his hand.

It'd already be hot under normal circumstances, but the fact that this is an _angel_ in his bed, a frustrated virgin masturbating indulgently, legs apart and consumed with lust... well, it's certainly a sight to behold.

"Mm. Let's up the ante, shall we?"

Crowley pours a generous amount of lube onto his fingertips and slowly, slickly prods at Castiel until he's got one finger slipping inside him, coaxing and curling the pad back and up against his prostate. This is the moment Crowley's fantasized about. What _will_ an angel of the Lord cry out in the throes of orgasm?

There's no Enochian. He doesn't implore his Father. He doesn't swear. Castiel simply vocalizes and gasps for air he doesn't need. He rolls his hips, thrusting into the tight grip of his fist, and fucking himself on Crowley's finger. When Castiel's abs clench, when Crowley sees the angel's vessel go taut, all he can do is watch—and keep up the steady pumping of his hand.

Castiel's cock twitches several times, but his back remains arched. He doesn't ejaculate.

Crowley frowns."What happened?"

There's no decrease in Castiel's pace—he carries on tugging and teasing himself as if nothing occurred at all. Crowley slides his finger out of Castiel's ass, and the disappointed sounds of protest he receives are plaintive and urgent.

"Don't stop," he begs, and fucking hell what Crowley wouldn't give to hear _that_ much more often from this angel.

"I've a surprise for you, then." Crowley dribbles more lubricant onto his hand and smooths it along the bulbous tip of a prostate massager. With Castiel focused on his own desires, Crowley has ample opportunity to heighten his experience. "But you owe me a money shot, got me? Not doing all this for nothing."

Castiel's muscles are still tense, having never slackened all this while. "I don't know," he begins, his breath hitching, "I don't know what you want."

"Less celestial creativity, darling," he clarifies. Crowley eases the vibrator inside Castiel and works it against his prostate, sliding it rhythmically in and out and _pushing_ just the right way. "Just let your vessel do what it does best."

The combination of jerking off and vibrations and pressure are more than enough to make him tremble; Castiel bucks his hips and speeds up, staring lewdly at his own work as precome beads at the slit of his cockhead.

Eager—possibly moreso than Castiel—Crowley pauses to shift Castiel's legs further back, his feet held in the air. The demon increases his pace, too, and thumbs a button to turn the vibration up. Two types of buzzing almost, but don't quite, manage to overpower Castiel's ragged breathing. Crowley is awash in sound, and stares openly as Castiel hits his second orgasm.

This time, his climax is accompanied by semen, spurting hot and thick with every pulse of pleasure, dripping down the sides of his fist. Crowley keeps up the movement of the vibrator and quits pretending that he _isn't_ fantasizing about bending Castiel over and fucking his ass, or vice versa—

Castiel is shuddering, his abs tight with perpetual plateau, teetering infinitely on the edge and orgasming past the point of human endurance.

"Look at me," Crowley demands, selfish. "But don't use your angel-vision. Live in your meatsuit."

Castiel follows his orders, and he truly /observes/ Crowley for the first time. The body he's chosen is just as handsome, and Cas is overwhelmed with an attraction gleaned from lingering corporeal instincts that flicker at the perimeter of his brain. Crowley smells good in subtle ways Castiel can't discern or identify; the term _pheromones_ crosses his mind.

Aching, Castiel bites his lip before managing a strangled _please_ , and really, who is Crowley to deny him?

Crowley sheds his blazer before lowering himself to kiss Castiel, open-mouthed and fervent. He could do this forever, and frankly, he just might. Spunk stains the wool of his suit when he grinds down on top of the angel. Doesn't matter. It's due to be dry cleaned, anyway.

Castiel's snogging is unskilled, as expected, and his tongue probes too far into Crowley's mouth. Crowley moves away to kiss along his neck, to brush his lips against stubble, and takes his earlobe between his teeth. "Easy now. It's not a contest," he instructs. "Keep your tongue relaxed." Gradually, he drops kisses along Castiel's jawline before resuming their kissing, and Cas has already learned. Sensual warmth winds its way through the pit of Crowley's stomach, and he remembers exactly why this is one of his favorite acts. He smiles at the corner of Castiel's mouth, and murmurs approval. "Much better."

Reluctantly, Crowley stop kissing him and shifts away to take off his dress shirt, setting it behind him on the bed away from their feet. When he looks back, Castiel is touching himself again, and that's when Crowley unzips his fly and gives in, at long last. Another squeeze of lube and he's got their cocks together, hot and hard and swollen with arousal. 

" _Fuck_ , Castiel," he groans. 

Cas brings his other hand down to jack them off together, wet with sweat and lubricant and the slick-stick of semen. Crowley's uncut, foreskin enveloping the glans with every stroke upward, contrasting with the rougher, quicker glide of fingers on his own dick. He's never felt like this, never been this hard, never seen the head flushed so dark, never—

Castiel cries out, wantonly, and drags his fist tight and fast until he's drawn out yet another orgasm, his entire body flooded with tactual rapture. He milks his cock until he's completely spent, then lets himself sink, exhausted, back against the mattress. Greedily, he stares as Crowley ruts against his still-hard length, approaching his own climax.

"Oh, _fuck!_ " Crowley moans loudly and unabashedly as he releases onto Castiel's chest, splattered and messy with come pooling in his navel. Castiel's worn out, and grateful that his breathing is optional. 

Crowley takes a brief break to collect himself before lying down at Castiel's side and sighing deeply. Sated, Castiel lies perfectly still and stares up at the high hotel ceiling, the vibrator and cockring still thrumming away and lending background noise to the otherwise silent room. It's just shy of too much, but it feels good.

"Why do humans do anything else?" he asks.

"That's a perfectly reasonable question, isn't it? Many of them don't." Crowley shrugs, the gesture awkward on the bed. "Do much else, that is."

It's an acceptable answer. Without warning, Castiel turns and kisses Crowley again, firmly. Crowley kisses back, then snorts.

"What was that for?"

Castiel blinks at him, inscrutable. "It's a display of affection."

"Ah. I see." Crowley kisses Castiel's furrowed brow and can't help but grin. "Same to you, you feathery bastard."


End file.
